An Education
by Scribbler17
Summary: Iris reflects on Barry's selflessness. A lesson ensues.


The faint sunset amongst the clouds of Central City passes through the blinds, the only thing illuminating his face and her body next to his. The light is dim, but it's enough for an unabashed view of his reaction as she slowly fondles his length.

 _He looks older_ , Iris concludes. _And so handsome_. With his head tipped back, his thick brows furrowed, lashed eyelids shut and lips parted wordlessly, no longer was Barry her baby-faced best friend. He was her soulmate, her partner, her lover, completely consumed by euphoria at her hands.

His breath is coming out in hitches, and she knows he's close. She continues to stroke him, the sight of his impassioned face enticing her. She loves watching him come undone like this, although she hates that her focus isn't entirely on him. The throbbing sensation between her legs is overbearing and has been since the two stripped and fell into bed together, but she had insisted on tending to him first. They were still navigating the novelty of their relationship together, particularly the newfound physicality that accompanied it, but one thing was certain: Barry's dedicated altruism when it came to gratifying her.

She was determined, though. She wanted to learn to do that for him, something just for Barry, to give him leeway for a little bit of self-indulgence after all he had done for her. It wasn't that she felt indebted or obligated to: she just knew at this stage, Barry would hesitate to ask and to take, so she had to learn to foresee and to give.

But Iris was still learning how to give him what he deserves, and was quickly discovering that giving made her crave him further.

He finally makes this tiny inhalation that catches high in his freckled chest, and Iris braces herself. His tense form relaxes as his cock goes limp in her palm. She doesn't bother cleaning up, even more desperate now for his hands on her body.

Barry's eyes remain closed, his breathing heavy and fervid. She bends over and kisses his face gently, waiting for him to recover, trying to ignore the nagging ache of her arousal. _How_ did Barry always manage to be so patient when he catered to her needs?

He must have mastered the art of patience while he waited fifteen years for her.

 _I don't deserve him,_ she thinks, as she lays across his warm chest, ear pressed to his rapid heartbeat. His sturdy arms wrap around her slim frame, holding her affectionately, protectively. He's still panting: she feels herself rise and fall with each heave of his torso.

Her poor Bear. No doubt he must be exhausted: eventually all that running and meta-human combat had to take a toll, on top of the stress of a profession in law enforcement. Her faith in his capabilities and his resilience is unwavering, but she can't help her concern for his well-being, or worse, her fear that he could get hurt during his endeavor to safeguard the city. She tightens her grip on him, burying her face in his chest, drenched in sweat and all, vowing that she would do anything for him, anything to emulate his selflessness, his generosity. It's the least she can do for her unquestionable hero.

His respirations are more tame now, she notes as she moves with the even pace of his ribs. He's likely slipped into a well-deserved slumber. She can't mask her disappointment, the longing ache for his touch hasn't dulled even slightly, but she figures this is a test of sacrifice. She sighs, crestfallen, until he stirs beneath her.

"Iris?"

She lifts her head to face him, elated, and sees that he's awake, the usual brilliant green pools of his eyes noticeably hazy as he looks down at her. The pulse near her mound intensifies, pounds through every fraction of her being.

He doesn't take his eyes off hers for a moment as he sits up, his hands sliding down, hoisting her onto his lap. She clings to his shoulders while he lowers her to the mattress carefully, until she's on her back, hair splayed out over the pillows. He's leaning over her, on his knees and elbows, pupils darker still.

"I thought you were too spent," Iris murmurs, smiling up at him weakly.

"For you?" His face is tender. "Never."

He reaches between her thighs.

"You're so wet," he whispers, and that goes a long way toward finishing her off, his fingers doing the rest.


End file.
